


Christmas Morning Surprise

by EconHomework



Series: Beatles Holiday Fics [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Some angst, good parenting, not mpreg, pregnancy announcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EconHomework/pseuds/EconHomework
Summary: Following Christmas Eve at Friar Park, John and Paul enjoy Christmas Morning back at Kenwood with their own little family. In addition to the presents under the tree for Julian and Heather, Paul has a surprise for everyone, but the world makes things a bit complicated.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Beatles Holiday Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076249
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	Christmas Morning Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> More fun AU vibes! Still 1970, and take the ages with a grain of salt again :)

“Who’s that one from, Jules?” Paul asked from his seat on the couch, partially obscured by the mountain of discarded wrapping, ribbons, and empty boxes. 

“Graunt Mimi,” Julian held the gift bag up for Paul to see, before bringing it back to the floor. He carefully removed the tissue paper, setting it aside, and then peered into the bag. His precision was an impressive show of restraint for so young a child, but not particularly surprising for his own personality. He was cautious and deliberate in most things he did, from making decisions to the current task at hand: unwrapping Christmas presents. 

The opening of gifts had begun early, as to be expected with small children. Julian eagerly bounded down the stairs, followed by a bleary-eyed John and Paul, both clad in robes and the latter carrying Heather. They made their way to the glowing Christmas tree in the sitting room, now surrounded by presents of various shapes and sizes. The stockings, too heavy to hang above the fire, were leaned against the hearth. The snow that had started last night had continued through to the morning. A fresh covering of powder partially filled in the tracks made in the previous days by persons and pets alike. 

Paul’s knack for order and perfectionism made the Christmas process rather organized. The stockings had been dissected first, stuffed with small treasures that he and John had slowly accumulated throughout the year. A short pause for tea and Christmas rolls — a tradition from Aunt Mimi — was followed by the main event: the tree. Paul kept a growing list of gifts received but eventually surrendered in his battle against the wrapping materials accumulating between the couch and the tree. 

John had a more laid back approach, sitting next to Paul on the couch and getting up every now and then to flip a record from the turntable in the corner or to corral Heather, who had been intent on taking her new rolling duck-on-a-string for a walk into the kitchen since she opened it. Both he and Paul watched Julian’s unwrapping and Heather’s playing with joy equal to the delight the children gained from their presents. 

“Let’s have a look, yeah?” John leaned forward as Julian withdrew his hand from the bag, holding a large cylindrical container. A label, complete with artwork of a log cabin in a wintry landscape, proclaimed the gift to be LINCOLN LOGS. 

“Those must be American, I suppose. Wonder how Mimi managed that,” John mused, sitting down next to Julian. “Good old Lincoln. You could make your own, Macca, call them ‘Prime Minister Posts’.” 

“Now there’s an idea,” Paul chuckled, jotting down the item on the Thank You Note List. “A backup career in case music fails us.”

Julian turned the can in a circle, pausing at the back, which had instructions on building a basic log cabin from the blocks and logs inside. He furrowed his brow, unable to read all the instructions, and studied the diagrams intently. 

“Do you want to take those up to the farm, baby?” John asked, stretching backward to nab Heather from making a duck-themed escape. 

“Yeah!” Julian nodded excitedly, eager to experience both the present in his hand and the coming time in Scotland. “Can Heather build with them, too?”

Paul felt moved to at least raise the possibility that Heather might end up destroying more than she created, but he decided not to, at least not right away. Instead, he nodded assent and let Julian study his new present further. Heather's gifts had been opened earlier, with generous help from Julian. Several other gifts for her were stashed away in the master closet, waiting to be driven to Scotland and opened for her birthday on New Year’s Eve. 

“What else is under there, Jules?” Paul prodded, finally getting up to stretch his legs. 

Julian looked around, moving aside a few empty bags. Finally, after a careful search, he pulled a rectangular box from the back of the tree and set it in front of John, who helped Julian with the unfamiliar names on the tag. 

“It’s from Harold and Louise, baby, Uncle George’s parents,” John explained. “You met them when you were really little, just after Heather was born.” 

Nodding, but not remembering, Julian engaged himself with the careful unwrapping of the morning’s last gift. At least, the last one as far as John and Julian knew. 

“I’ll be back in a moment, love.” Paul stooped to plant a kiss on John’s forehead. “Will you write down what it is on the list?”

“In my horrible handwriting? Anything for you, Macca,” John replied. 

Paul placed a second kiss in thanks, then slipped quietly from the room. The Christmas music faded into the background as he made his way upstairs and into his small study. Bright winter light shone in through the dormer, reminding Paul that he needed to make some time to dust. 

He opened the top drawer, much cleaner than the surrounding room. Carefully removing the surface layer of note paper, he unearthed a heavyweight envelope. “For the McLennons” was written across it. Paul chuckled at the nickname, but couldn’t shake the butterflies and nervousness that hung in the air. Last night’s conversation with Ringo flashed into his mind. 

\---------------

“So, how’s Kenwood these days? And thanks for washing, by the way.”” Ringo set a stack of dishes down on the tiled counter. Paul, elbow-deep in dish soap bubbles, looked up. 

“You are hosting, y’know. Happy to help. But yeah, things are going well, y’know. It’s been lovely spending time with Jules and Heather,” Paul smiled softly. “Seeing all the things Heather is learning makes me wish we’d been with Julian more at that age.” 

“You spent just about every spare minute you had with him, Macca,” Ringo patted Paul on the shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself about you being a bad father. Or John for that matter.” 

“You laughed at me when I told you John and I wanted to have a kid, y’know,” Paul reminded, gently splashing Ringo with some suds. 

“‘Ey! That’s only because I thought somehow you were gonna try to get one or the other of you pregnant,” Ringo chuckled, taking up a dish towel. “Though I will admit that I was a bit skeptical about John’s parenting skills at first.”

“He’s not exactly someone you’d look at and peg for a father, I suppose,” Paul admitted. “But when Julian was born, he just about cried from happiness. Said Jules was the best thing he’d ever seen. We stayed in hospital that night and John slept with him on his chest.” 

“Makes you wonder if you really know a guy,” Ringo joked. As he reached to place the dried plates on a high shelf, however, his mood turned more serious. “You’re raising some wonderful kids with him.” 

“Thanks, Ringo,” Paul nodded appreciatively, pausing in his scrubbing. “How about you and George?” 

“What about us?” Ringo suddenly looked down, more interested in the kitchen floor than meeting Paul’s eyes. 

“Well, you always said you wanted kids, even before you and George got together,” Paul elaborated, a bit confused at Ringo’s apprehension. “I guess I’m just curious as to why you haven’t yet.” 

“Oh, yeah, well I know I want them,” Ringo spoke quietly. “And George does, too. We just haven’t really thought it’s the right time. What with everything going on.” 

Since spring, the months had been tumultuous, among other adjectives. Once they’d decided to disband, things had initially been tense. Paul and John retreated to Scotland, spending somewhat bittersweet family time with Julian and Heather. George threw himself into his music, and Ringo accompanied him on his strolls through the expansive grounds of Friar Park. The love had never left, of course, but they had all needed time.

By summer’s end, melting into a golden autumn, tempers had cooled, edges had softened. They gathered in October to celebrate John’s 30th, and again in November to toast George’s album release. This Christmas was the first time things had really felt back to normal, though. For quieter people like George and Ringo, it wasn’t surprising they wanted to wait. 

“Yeah, well you don’t need to rush it, y’know,” Paul reassured him. “Johnny and I were just ready.”

“More than once, it seems,” Ringo commented, drying two small forks, miniature when compared to regular dining ware. 

“When we saw how good Jules was turning out we figured we couldn’t go wrong a second time round,” Paul laughed, then paused. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone until tomorrow morning, when he would tell John, but he was full to bursting with the secret. When he spoke again, it was rather akin to a whisper. “Or a third.” 

“What was that?” Ringo immediately jumped on the comment. “Did I hear you right?” 

“Depends on what you heard,” Paul said, but he was fighting to keep his face from splitting into a smile. 

“I should have known!” Ringo exclaimed. “The way you’ve been acting, holding Heather all evening, you’re practically a mother!” 

“Keep it down, will yeh?” Paul quickly glanced at the doorway. No one was there. The secret was safe. “John doesn’t know yet.” 

“Hold on, how do you mean? He’s your  _ husband _ isn’t he?” Ringo went from looking victorious to bewildered in a matter of seconds. 

“I wanted to surprise him. For Christmas, y’know,” Paul explained, still eyeing the door. “Gift giving isn’t exactly easy when you get older.” 

“I know how that feels. What am I meant to get a man who eschews the material world?” Ringo muttered. 

“Well, what did you get him?” 

“I put together a photo album for him, of the past ten years,” Ringo spoke with pride but also sounded a bit embarrassed. The gift was quite personal to George and himself, spanning from their first meeting in Hamburg all the way up to now. “It took me bloody months to find all the ones I wanted. But it turned out nice, I think.” 

“I’m sure it’s lovely, Rings,” Paul said. “And I’m sure he’ll love it, too.” 

“Well it’s not quite as exciting as what your man is getting. How have you managed to keep it secret?”

“Well they called while John was out, so that helped. Gave me the idea, anyway,” Paul began. “I asked that when the first scan was done, which was two days ago, if they could get a picture and then I could come round and pick it up. It’s just gonna be in a little envelope, nothing fancy.” 

“When’s, uh, _ it _ due?” 

“Middle of August, or thereabouts. Gonna have a winter, spring, and summer baby now!” 

“I’d say you should have another one for fall, but I don’t want to give you any ideas,” Ringo laughed. 

“Who says we don’t already want a fourth?”

“Well I’m sure your neighbors will love that, more noise and all.” Ringo rolled his eyes. “Speaking of makin’ some noise, though…” 

“Yes?” Paul prompted. 

“It’s just, you’re living together, you each ‘have a child’ that’s supposedly yours but doesn’t have a mother in the picture. It’s odd enough that George and I are living together as bachelors, regardless of how accepted Holmes and Watson were,” Ringo stressed. “What are the papers gonna think when a third child shows up that looks like one or the other of you but still has no mother? It’s only gonna be a matter of time, Paul. And I say that as a friend, not a critic.”

Paul sighed. He’d thought about this, of course. He and John had stayed up later than was healthy for parents of two young children. They avoided the media, sure, but certain things were unavoidable. When Julian turned five and started school, teachers were going to wonder why he called both his biological father and said father’s former bandmate “Dad,” albeit with different variations. Someone would see Paul and John together in a way that transcended friendship. A hospital employee would leak something. Ringo was right. In the end it was unavoidable. 

“I don’t know, Rings,” Paul sighed. He could have been angry, but he was more tired than anything else. “I love John, and I love my children. I love my family. I think about the paradox every day. If I love them, should I proudly show them off to the world, or should I protect them from the bigotry in it?” He shook his head dejectedly. 

They stood quietly. Dishes clean, counter cleared. The silence revealed the distant sound of Christmas music from the parlor, presumably “Good King Wenceslas,” judging but the laughter that went along with it. John loved to mess up the lyrics, much to Julian’s delight, and Heather simply laughed because her brother was laughing. That was it, Paul’s whole world. Husband, children, music. Why couldn’t they coexist beyond the confines of their private lives?

“Hey,” Ringo spoke up. “There’s no right answer. It’s not an easy decision. You just have to go with the path you think is best, even if neither is the desired outcome.” 

“Yeah.” Paul nodded. “Thanks, Ringo. For that and for dinner and for everything, really. We’d all be wrecks by now if not for you and your level head.” 

“Don’t worry yourself about it.” Ringo waved his hand, kindly dismissing Paul’s anxiety. “We were brothers. Still are. Now perk up a bit. It’s Christmas Eve and you have the best surprise in the world tomorrow for your man.” 

\---------------

And now here Paul was, the next morning, sitting in a state of worry and excitement. Eager to see John’s reaction, yet terrified for the potential consequences after the next eight or so months were up and Heather was no longer the youngest child. 

“Dada?” A small voice startled Paul out of his thoughts. He turned away from the desk, slipping the envelope in the pocket of his robe, and found Julian standing in the doorway. 

“Hey Jules, everything alright?” 

“Daddy wanted me to ask you if you were ready to come down so we can start breakfast,” Julian said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to recite the message with which he had been entrusted. 

“Yeah baby, I’m ready.” Paul smiled. Good Lord, he loved that child. More than he’d ever thought it possible to love anything. He took Julian’s hand as they walked out of the room. “What was in the box from Uncle George’s parents?” 

“They gave me a train, all wooden and it goes in circles when you put it together. It was very geh-ner-us of them,” Julian tried to pronounce, still very earnest. After a moment, he looked up at Paul. “Dada?” 

“Yes?” 

“Are you okay?” Julian’s eyes shone with concern. 

Paul stopped at the top of the stairs. “Yeah, I’m alright, Jules. I just have a surprise for Daddy and it’s hard to give people surprises sometimes.” 

“But aren’t surprises good?” 

“Most of them are,” Paul affirmed, kneeling down. “But sometimes they can be complicated, too. And that’s okay. They’re just hard to figure out for a while.” 

“Are you and Daddy gonna figure it out?” 

“Of course, baby,” Paul said, and he meant every word. “Everything will be alright. You don’t need to worry.” Paul kissed Julian on the forehead and scooped him up and continued down the stairs. Ringo was right; Paul did have some form of motherly energy at the moment. 

“Can you tell me the surprise?” 

“You’ll find out what it is when Daddy opens it!” Paul winked. 

“There they are!” John cried, leaning around the doorway from the sitting room as Paul emerged from the staircase. “Thought we lost Dada for a bit, didn’t we Heather?” 

“He’s here now, though!” Julian exclaimed, interrupting whatever two-word sentence Heather would have uttered. “Dada, can I tell him about the surprise?” 

“Well you might as well now,” Paul chuckled. Subtlety was not a three-year-old skill. 

“What’s this about a surprise?” John raised his eyebrows. 

“Dada has a surprise for you!” Julian wriggled out of Paul’s arms and ran into the sitting room. Paul followed, doing his best to quell the waves of anxiety washing over him. The crooning voice of Bing Crosby and the gentle crackling of the subdued fire helped a bit, as did the calming land of white power beyond the window.

“A surprise?” John grinned as Paul entered the room. “Macca, I thought we were only doing small gifts.” 

It was true. John and Paul had opted for fewer gifts for each other, as per usual, though both managed to individually wrangle Julian to make gifts for the other. Paul had helped guide him through the process of decorating a picture frame that held a photo of Julian and Heather in front of the red gate at the farm last winter. John’s gift was a bit confusing at first, but in the end it was recognizable as a rock paperweight covered in Julian’s attempts at painting Martha and all the cats: Mimi, Babaghi, and Pyramus. 

“Well, this one is still fairly small at the moment,” Paul admitted.

“Let’s see it, then!” John patted the floor next to him. He was sitting crossed legged just on the edge of the rug, kept company by Heather, who was examining Julian’s toy keyboard, gifted by George Martin and his wife.

Paul acquiesced. Julian, who had been hovering behind John, came and settled himself by Paul, watching expectantly. Paul fished the envelope out of his pocket and handed it over to John. 

“‘For the McLennons?’” John looked confused. 

Paul shrugged. He didn’t have a better idea about the nickname than John did, but he explained as best he could. “I guess it’s sort of a surprise for the family.” 

“Except you already know it?” John still looked befuddled. 

“Uh, yeah, well, y’know.” Paul moved to rub sleep dust out of his eyes, despite there being none. “I had to know so I could tell you.” 

“Who’s it from?” John turned the envelope over, but there was no return address or message.

“You’ll know when you open it.” Paul’s nerves were killing him.

“Right,” John said slowly. He looked a bit suspicious, but slid his index finger under the flap of the envelope and somewhat haphazardly ripped it open. “What…?”

Then he pulled out the photo. For a good few seconds, John sat in silence. Julian craned his neck to see the picture, but what he saw didn’t make much sense. 

“Dada?” He looked up at Paul. 

“Wait a moment, baby,” Paul shushed him gently. John was still sitting in shock, and worry began to flood Paul’s emotions. He knew John had wanted this — they’d talked about it and decided together — but maybe he wasn’t expecting it so soon? Finally, John raised his eyes from the picture. 

“This is what I think it is, right?” He asked in a whisper. 

“Yeah,” Paul said simply. What else was there to say when he didn’t know what John was thinking?

“I’m gonna be a new dad again,” John breathed softly. He sounded close to tears. 

“Love, are you alright?” Paul was becoming concerned. 

“Macca, we’re gonna have another baby!” This time the crack in John’s voice was obvious. It was strained with joy. 

“Who’s having another baby?” Julian was as bewildered as John had been when opening the envelope. 

“We are, Jules,” John explained, eyes wet behind his glasses. “You’re gonna have another little sibling.” 

“Like me or Heather?” Julian peered over at his sister. 

“We don’t know yet,” Paul took over the questions, gently rubbing John’s back, who was looking in awe at the picture. “We won’t know until it’s born.” 

“Oh. When is that?” 

“Doctor said sometime in the middle of August, so not for a while.” 

“So I won’t have a twin?” 

“No, it’s not being born near your birthday  _ or  _ Heather’s birthday.” Paul made a mental note to explain twins again at some point.

Julian nodded. He seemed to be finished with the questions, at least for now. Neither he nor Heather were particularly phased. The concept of a new sibling was still processing in his head, and it had gone over Heather’s completely. 

“Jules, why don’t you take some of your new toys into the playroom, yeah? You and Heather can play while Daddy and I make breakfast,” Paul did his best to sound relaxed, but he wanted a moment to make sure John didn’t implode. 

“Can we go make more snowmen afterward?”

“We can make a whole snow town, if you like,” Paul vowed.

Future snow time assured, Julian complied easily. He led Heather into the next room and hauled several new gifts with him in the process. When they’d disappeared into the magic toyland, Paul lost no time in turning his full attention to John. 

“Love, are you alright?” He repeated his early query. “You’ve hardly ever reacted like this before, except when Jules was born.”

“I’m alright.” John removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “I just love this so much. I love you and our family and everything. And it’s Christmas.” He gestured to the room, bedecked in red and green and filled with soft carols.

“Oh, Johnny.” Paul felt tears rising in his own eyes. On impulse, he enveloped John in a flannel embrace, holding him close. “I love you, too. And everything we’ve made. I’m sorry if the surprise came on a bit strong.” 

“It was perfect, Macca.” John pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you.” 

“It’s only gonna get more complicated, y’know,” Paul sighed. “And not in a good way.”

“We’ll figure it out, yeah? Whatever happens, we’ll have our family. I promise.” John tilted Paul’s face up just slightly, then closed the distance between them. “Merry Christmas, Macca.”

“Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Full disclaimer: not entirely sure how the whole pregnancy thing is actually happening, as I chose not to take the mpreg angle, but it didn't seem terribly important for the detail this story went into. Hopefully it didn't trip you up too badly!
> 
> Leave a kudos or give a holler if ya liked it!


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